


If We Survive...

by Greenninjagal



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Does anyone actually read theses??, Galra is a Gang, Lance is a dork, Lance-centric, M/M, The Author Regrets Nothing, homophobic occurrences, my hand slipped, there's a bit of blood, whoops
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-23 17:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7472103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenninjagal/pseuds/Greenninjagal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance has always done his best to hide what's inside him. After all, only a handful of people are ever going to care what's lying behind those fake smiles and cheesy pick up lines. But that night Lance swore he'd give up his mask and the masquerade and let it all out if only they all survived to see the morning.</p>
<p>But with every passing moment, it seems that Lance might keep his secrets all the way to his grave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It all happened at the mall....

According to the newspapers it all started around nine o’clock on Saturday night, but the truth was it started a week earlier. It all started with the pretty girl in the mall.

 

And it all started when Lance couldn’t keep his mouth shut.

 

“Damn, she’s hot!” Lance shamelessly gaped at the seventeenth girl to pass by them. His sea blue eyes scanned the girl up and down lingering around certain aspects of her body in a way that would suggest that he was going to Hell a bit sooner than everyone else. 

 

“Yeah, too bad you’ve got no shot with her at all.”

 

Lance’s face fell as he looked at his best friend, slightly offended. “Hunk, my man, I can get any girl I want.” 

 

The taller, rounder boy, took a thoughtful slurp of his soda. His dark hair was pulled back with his signature headband and his eyes displayed that look that he normally got when Lance was talking about picking up chicks: unimpressed.

 

“Really, Lance, then how come you’ve already declared that you’re third wheeling on my date with Shay next Saturday? Why not drag one of your girls out with us and make it a double date?”

 

Lance spluttered, throwing his arms out in a wounded motion, “If I bring one of these girls, then I’ve got to keep her  _ entertained _ . If I’m doing that, how can I make sure you and Shay-Shay are keeping it PG?” 

 

Hunk snorted and rolled his eyes. He was far too use to Lance and his obsessive checking out of girls. They had been best friends since middle school, inseparable from the moment Lance approached Hunk and offered the other boy a slice of pizza from his lunch. Even after all these years Hunk was still clueless as to why Lance had done that. 

 

Lance was the type of guy that everyone liked, the class clown. He was Mr. Popular even if he couldn’t hold a girl for longer than a week. He was cheesy and Hunk was almost 100% sure he memorized that pick up line book Hunk had given him for Christmas last year. 

 

Needless to say, Hunk was the opposite. Sure people liked him, but it was more for his kind personality. He was a rule follower to the note, so all the teachers liked to praise him, which came in handy when Lance got in trouble time and time again.

 

Lance patted his arm quickly another grin spreading over his face, “Her!” He said, pointing at a tanned blond girl with giant hoop earrings. “Watch this!” Lance straightened up, pulling on his green jacket collar. He slicked back his hair and before Hunk could even think about reminding him of all his other failures that afternoon, Lance strolled over to the girl and her group of friends in designer jeans.

 

“Hello ladies,” He grinned, “Name’s Lance, and can I just say--”

 

The girl closest to him popped a bubble with her bubble gum and interrupted him, “Lance?” She flicked up her sunglasses as if that would help her get a better look at him, “Lance Callisto?”

 

Lance frowned, “Yeah, how did you-”

 

The playful air around all the girls seemed to evaporate. The girl squeezed her hand into a fist and flung it into his face before he could even think about ducking. Lance let out a string of curses that most definitely would’ve gotten his mouth washed with soap had his mother heard. Then again, had she known what he was doing she might have done it with bleach instead.

 

“That was for leaving Lacy at the fair, jackass!” The girl fumed, before turning on heel and with her group of friends. Lance held his cheek watching them leave and stuttering into speechlessness.

 

Hunk wondered over, offering him a hand to help his buddy off the ground. “So…..” Hunk said shaking the ice in his cup, “who’s Lacy?”

 

“Hell if I know.” Lance shrugged. He rubbed his red cheek hoping that didn’t leave a bruise. Damn, cute and fiesty! She really could throw a punch.

 

“Isn’t it time we get back to doing what your mom sent us to do?” Hunk suggested lightly. 

 

Lance scanned around the crowded mall. Everyone seemed to be enjoying the nice air conditioned MegaMall as they dragged around friends, family, and enough shopping bags to fill up a tractor trailer. The loud chattering with excitement bounced off the walls and the summer sunlight sprinkled in through the large overhead skylights. 

 

The last thing he wanted to do this summer was get a job. Sure he needed the money and stuff, but there were so many other things he wasn’t going to get to do. Like figure out who this Lacy chick was and see if she was as cute as her friends. 

 

“Yeah, I guess so.” Lance sighed, “Ugh, If I had known the paper she had me sign was the application form, than I never would’ve signed it.” He drove his hands into his pockets, whining about how unfair that trick had been.

 

“At least your mom did everything for you.” Hunk pointed out, “All you have to do is go in for this interview and then boom, you’ve got the job. I had to do everything myself.” 

 

Lance guessed he had a point. But still… He was planning on purposely throwing this interview. All he had to do was be himself right? This shouldn’t be too hard. With luck he’d get himself tossed out in five minutes and he and Hunk could go grab another pizza from the food court.

 

“Alright here I go,” He said puffing out his chest and heading towards the shop

 

“Good luck!” Hunk called from behind him.

 

“Luck?” Lance turned back to him, backpedaling, “Hunk, I don’t need any Luck! I  _ am  _ Luck. I’m the sole embodiment of luck! Luck wishes it was as lucky as me! Luck--”

 

“Coming through!” A small voice yelled as they shoved past Lance carrying a box twice their size. The boy, who Lance only got a fleeting glance of when he turned back around, was short with light brown hair and a glint of oversized glasses. The box he was carrying was full of robotics part, and even though it looked to be as heavy as an elephant he had no problem carrying it. 

 

When Lance looked back up at Hunk, he gave a shrugged and Lance decided that maybe he should just walk in and get it over with.

 

The movie theater was less crowded than it should’ve been on a Saturday afternoon. Lance actually had no trouble getting in the lobby. People were roaming around waiting from the next premiere of the movie that was playing, a couple were in line to get popcorn and sodas and candies that Lance suddenly realized that he really wanted.

 

He strolled up to the line just as a couple finished paying. The girl had one of those high pitched laughs like a dolphin but Lance thought she was kinda cute. If she got rid of the dark purple eyeshadow.

 

“I can help the next guest,” a tired voice called to him. Lance slid up to the counter his semi good mood disappearing as soon as he saw the guy working the cash register. 

 

“Keith.” Lance growled, “I’d recognize that dumb mullet anywhere.”

 

The boy looked unphased, “Do I know you? Or are you just insulting me for fun?”

 

“It’s me, Lance…” Lance blinked twice, “Lance Callisto? You know, Keith and Lance, neck-and-neck, for the High School athletic award?”

 

Keith narrowed his faint purple eyes and let his frown deepen as he tapped his fingers on the rim of the cash register screen. “Sure, whatever.” He replied, if only to shut Lance up. The other boy was offended, but he shook it off.

 

Whatever, Keith was always trying to one-up him. He looked stupid in the red and black uniform of the Voltron theater, anyway. And him having a job there was just another reason for Lance to flunk this interview. He didn’t ever want to work with someone who had such a stupid haircut.

 

“You’re holding up the line...what-was-it, Lance?” Keith said, rolling his eyes, “So get something or go away.”

 

“I’m actually here for an interview.” Lance said, “I believe the manager is expecting me.”

 

Recognition flicked in his eyes, “Oh,” He said, “Cool, I’ll get Shiro, just go stand over there and don’t...break anything.” 

 

Keith waved a bored hand towards an empty space nearby, and left the register to walk the five feet to the back and called for his manager. Lance was equally annoyed and impressed. Keith could even bother to pretend like he was putting effort into their rivalry. Of course for a guy who was good at everything, why would he to worry about Lance whose only talents were faking a smile and getting girls to swoon over said fake smile.

 

Not that would stop him from proving that he was better than Keith.

 

Keith seemed to have a short conversation with whoever was the manager, standing in the doorway, and not looking at once towards Lance in his casual clothes. How annoying was that?!

 

At least, if he was talking about Lance, he ought to glance over and look at him as he did it, right?

 

“Ohh!” A voice called out, and suddenly, Lance’s glare was cut off by an angel. 

 

No really. She must have tripped and fallen, but Lance was quick on his feet. He caught her right before she hit the ground. For a second he could only stare at her obvious beauty. Her skin was dark color that contrasted her white-blonde hair, but on her it looked gorgeous. There faces were only a couple inches apart, and Lance could see every color in her blue and pink irises. Something about her made Lance’s heart beat faster, which did  _ not  _ ever happen.

 

“Are you okay? You must have fallen very far, being an angel and all.” Lance whispered.

 

She didn’t look impressed, “Who are you?” 

 

“Name’s Lance and you must be a goddess.” He said. Her face flushed, but her glare just seemed to deepen. She twisted out of his arms scoffing.

 

“I’m not an angel or a goddess, and don’t you call me either of those again!” She snarled.

 

“Princess!” Lance suggested, “I’ll call you princess then, right? When I pick you up tonight?”

 

For a second her face flashed with horror. It was so quick, her eyes widening, her skin paling, her mouth opening, that Lance thought he must have imagined it. He didn’t remember what happened afterwards. Just that when he blinked he was on his knees, and his beautiful angel of a woman was painfully pinning him by his fucking ear. 

 

“Don’t you  _ ever  _ call me that!” She snarled in his ear. 

 

“Owowow! Okay okay!” Lance begged, “I won’t call you that! I’m sorry!”

 

“Allura!” Another voice called. The girl loosen her grip in a way that Lance could only picture as meaning she was looking up. 

 

A man came into view, he looked to be a couple years older than them all and wore the same expression of some weird uncle that was twice removed and not sure exactly how he was related to any of them. His orange hair was enough to make him stand out but his mustache was something of a curiosity. Lance wasn’t sure quite how it made that shape. Must be witchcraft.

 

“Coran!” The lady pinning him exclaimed, “Finally, are ready to go now?”  She let go of Lance as if she had already forgotten about him and his pick up lines. Allura (that was what he’d called her right?) and the mustache man, walked away like nothing unusual had happened.

 

“Sheesh,” The lanky boy rubbed his ear, “What’s her problem!”

 

“See I told you he’s a bad match for this job.” The familiar and unwanted voice of Keith flowed from over head. Lance looked up to see the black haired boy leaning over the counter with a look of amusement as if he thought watching Lance get pinned by stunning women was the funniest thing on earth. The gods knew that was the only way that the emotionless boy would show the signs of a smile.

 

“Keith, you’re not helping.” Another voice intervened before Lance got one of his killer comebacks out. There was another man standing in front of him, one that Lance knew all too well. It took him a moment to even think about replying he was so shocked.

 

Takashi Shirogane. Practically the most famous person in the world. The man had been the center of national news for weeks now. He looked just the same as on TV, dark brown eyes, paled skin, that scar running right over his nose. His hair was black with a tuft of white right in front. 

 

He was Lance’s hero. And he was extending a hand right to him. 

 

“Hi, you must be Lance, right?” Lance nodded speechless, as the legend of a man helped helped him back to his feet, “Good, I’m Shiro, the manager. And that was Allura and Coran. They’re usuals on Saturday nights. Why don’t we go to my office for the interview?”

 

And at that moment Lance knew that he couldn’t mess up this meeting. Not if it meant that beautiful woman would be coming back every Saturday. And not if it met he’d get to talk to his hero on a daily basis. And not if it met he’d get to show up Keith once and for all.

 

Sometime later Lance met with back up Hunk at the pizza parlor, and the only thing he could think of was the papers in his pocket that Shiro said needed to be filled for him to start working the next day. 

 

“So you really go the job?” Hunk asked, taking a cheesy bite of his pizza.

 

“Don’t act so surprised,” Lance replied, “This is going to be the best thing in the world, man. Just you watch.”

 

If only he knew how wrong he was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance gets beat up for flirting. Big surprise.

By now Lance guessed he should be used to being punched in his face, but for some reason after hundreds of these occurrences he still wasn't ready.

 

It might have had something to do with the fact this time it was midnight on Friday evening and that it was a guy.

 

Lance was exhausted and it didn’t help his mood that he smelled like nacho cheese thanks to Keith. No really, it wasn’t like he was bitter that the other boy had poured fucking steaming hot nacho cheese all over Lance’s bare hands and his jacket and his shirt. 

 

At least Keith’s jacket was now discolored from the amount of soda Lance had “accidentally” dropped on him.

 

The only drawback was being scolded by Shiro. The tall man was even more intimidating in person than he was said to be back when he was all over the news. He made Lance actually feel bad for giving Keith what he deserved. 

 

“You both are almost adults now, aren't you?” Shiro had said sternly. Keith and him had been lined up side by side, both head hung in shame. Lance’s  hands were stinging and Keith’s black locks were still dripping pepsi on the ground. “You both should start acting like it.” 

 

Lance had swallowed the seventeen verses of “it was his fault” that kept trying to pop out of his mouth. He figured that saying that might only get him a one way trip to being unemployed again. An event that Lance was not looking forward to.

 

When Shiro had turned to head back to the line that was gathering (he was helping show Lance the ropes that night, which was totally useless at this time because Lance already knew what he was doing), Keith very quickly drove his elbow into Lance’s side. He retaliated with yanking on the other boys wet bangs. 

 

“Boys!”

 

“Yes, Shiro.” Lance and Keith both hung their heads again and followed him back to the counter.

 

So yes, Lance was in a flipping fantastic mood when he walked out of the mall after his shift. Keith had stayed behind to help Shiro lock up the store, which he insisted he didn’t need any help with. Keith didn’t seem to care. Lance swung his keys in a circle yawning loudly. It seemed like he’d parked his car so much closer back when he’d first arrived for his fourth day on the job. 

 

He kept his eyes glued to the bright screen of his phone. Hunk had been giving his hourly status reports of his life, per usual. The big man seemed to have a lot on his plate: chilling with netflix, having to get the remote to change the volume, having to get up to eat, talking with his family, struggling to find something good to watch…. It was far more interesting than anything Lance could’ve come up with. 

 

**“Hey you still joining Shay and me on our date Sat?”**

 

The only down side to Lance’s job that didn’t revolve around Keith and his dumb mullet, happened to be the fact that Shiro needed him to work Saturday. Such a bummer. He had been really looking forward to both embarrassing Hunk and getting free food in the process. Lance was about to type the humble response of  _ “Sorry, I won’t be able to grace you with my glorious and smexy appearance, bc work _ ” when the punch came out of the darkness.

 

He didn’t remember much about hitting the ground. He tumbled off the sidewalk and hit the pavement pretty hard. His eyes burned from the sudden change from the neon screen of his phone to the blurry darkness of the barely lit parking lot, but not nearly as much as the agony that spread across his face. 

 

“What the Hell!” He yelled. His hands immediately went to his nose, feeling the slimy, sticky, consistence that he couldn’t place as first. Was that Blood? Oh shit, it was!

 

“You little punk ass bitch!” A voice called towering over him. Lance could just barely make out the figure of someone who definitely looked like he shouldn’t be messed with. The parking lot lights flickered. Two sets of hands grabbed his arms roughly yanking Lance to his feet, and slamming him against the wall of the Mall building.

 

There were three of them, guys that looked like they belonged to some type of biker gang. Leather jackets, leather boots, Lance thought he caught a flash of silver on one’s knuckles that definitely didn’t look like a precious wedding ring.

 

He glanced around quickly for his phone but it seemed to have vanished in the depths of his confusion. Lance got a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

 

“Hey, hey!” Lance said, pretending like his nose wasn’t throbbing, “Guys, What’s up?” He hoped his smile wasn’t as revealing as it felt. If the biker henchmen #1 and #2 hadn’t been holding him up, Lance was pretty sure his knees would have given out. 

 

“What’s up? What’s up?” Biker gang leader, (at least that's what he seemed to be to Lance through his pain-filled haze) repeated, “What’s up is your shitty ass has been flirting with my girl, again!” The blow, while Lance had been expecting it, still knocked the wind from his lungs. His knees really did go out, but the henchmen held him steady. “I told you last time I was gonna beat the fuck out of you, fuckboy, if you did it again!” 

 

Lance’s eyes widen in realization. He strained to even minimally move his body, the other guys had grips stronger than steel. He remembered the last time he’d run into these guys. 

 

What had it been? A couple months ago? The chick with the hot pink bra and dangerously short shorts at the beach. If Lance had known that she was the girlfriend of bulldozer he would have steered clear. Okay, maybe not. That night he might have had a couple drinks too many. 

 

He thought that girl from earlier looked familiar, but once again he’d been flirting with every girl who came up to his register (It got him better tips). Fuck.

 

“Look, man!” Lance tried quickly, “I wasn’t-- I’m  _ not _ into her!”

 

“Oh so now you’re calling her ugly?”

 

That’s totally not where he was going with that. 

 

“Dude, I don’t know what runs in that pathetically tiny brain of your but that’s not what I’m--” 

 

The punch came in low and whipped upward, throwing Lance’s head back. His head cracked against the concrete wall of the Mall wall. Stars exploded in his vision. The hands holding him up let go, and he hit the ground heavily, trying to breath through the thick liquid of his own blood.

 

“Fucking little faggot.” 

 

Lance’s blood ran cold. His mouth tasted like metal, sharp and frozen. He must have bit his tongue accidentally. His body felt like lead. The ground was shaking. No wait, that was his arms. He couldn’t breathe. 

 

_ “Faggot!” _

 

Lance didn’t move when the next attack came. He saw it coming from miles away, the lean back, transference of weight, all in slow motion. A tick, tick, tick, of the motion that Lance could practically feel in the fucking air.

 

And still he could only watch it happen.

 

Just like last time.

 

The leader drove his foot into Lance’s side the same way a wrecking ball tore through a brick building. Lance hit the ground again, winded. Blows rained down on him, but Lance barely had time to even try and protect himself. 

 

“Where’s your fight now, you fuc---!”

 

“LANCE!” 

 

Somehow….Somehow Lance found himself standing up. Well, more like leaning. On Shiro. 

 

He honest to god didn’t remember what had happened to the biker gang, and sometimes he still thought about that. Maybe they saw the ex-military man with the murderous look on his face and thought the only good thought they had all day: run. Or maybe Shiro and Keith had beat them all up and stuffed them in the bushes by the front of the mall. 

 

All Lance really knew was that he was being guided to Keith’s car with the help of his manager/ beloved hero. 

 

“Keith, do you still have that med kit in your car?” Shiro asked, the other teenager.

 

“Uh, yeah, I think. I didn’t move it.” Keith responded sounding unenthusiastic to help Lance in any way, shape, or form. He swiped his keys from his pocket the jingling echoing in the otherwise empty parking lot. 

 

“I’m fine, really!” is what Lance tried to say, but it came out as “ughhghhhg”, which totally didn’t help his case. His tongue felt like it had swelled to the size of a watermelon in the short sixty seconds of him biting it. 

 

“Lance, sit here.” Shiro commanded, though the only thing that Lance wanted to do was crawl into a hole and die. They were not going to let this go. Once he was patched up and everything, they’d both start cracking jokes about how Lance was all talk. He couldn’t even save himself from a couple of dumb thugs.

 

He didn’t know what it was. Well, he did know what it was. He didn’t want to think about it.

 

Shiro set Lacne in the driver’s side seat while Keith rummaged the entire car for the med kit. Why the Hell did he have a med kit in his car? Shiro set off a silent flash bomb right in front of Lance’s eyes, “Will you stop moving! I can’t see anything if you keep moving!” 

 

“I can’t help it when you’re shoving a phone in my face, man!” Lance whined out, “Quit it,  _ Dad _ !”

 

Shiro paused for a second looking generally concerned.

 

“I’m fine!” Lance lied, thickly, “It’s just a nosebleed.”

 

“Dude, you couldn’t even stand a couple seconds ago.” Keith pointed out with his gruff voice from the passenger side door. He yanked open the glove box ignoring the mess of papers that fell out. Lance had no doubt there were more than a few speeding tickets in there. Keith emerged victorious with a small square plastic box with a red cross on the cover.

 

“Found it,” He said.

“But I don’t need it!” Lance put in, “I am perfectly fine, and in no need of any help--” He tried to get up but Shiro forced him back down again. The metal of his artificial arm felt cold even through Lance’s jacket. He tried to ignore the spiking pain from whenever he moved, but even the slight short movement of get up seemed to set an explosion off in his side.

 

“Oh, will you stop being an egotistical shit for a moment?” Keith hissed, “You’re not fine! You just got fucking beat up in the parking lot!”

 

The next couple of minutes were filled with both Shiro and Keith acting like they had degrees in medical fields. They concluded that Lance had no broken bones, which Lance had already told them fifteen times. He might have been blue and purple enough to look like an alien from space but he was fine other than a bitten tongue and a bloody nose. 

 

Lance was starting to feel like a broken record, re-explaining how fine he was. Despite that, Shiro had decided, “You can’t work tomorrow. I’ll get someone else to cover for you. You need rest. Where do you live?”

 

Lance was telling him before the words had really sunk into his brain. “Just a little bit past the high school, 2715--”

 

“That house with the dreamcatchers in all the windows?” Keith butted in, coming around to their side of the car. In the glow of the streetlights his signature red jacket seemed to be the same color of Lance’s blood. 

Lance kicked at him, trying to keep the bleeding of his nose to a minimum as well with a fast food napkin that they had salvaged from the car. “No one asked you, Mullet head! Why the hell do you even want to know, Shiro?”

 

The manager looked at him with a bored and tired look. He seemed to have aged forty years between the moment Lance left the Movie Theater and right now. “Well, someone has to take you home. You can’t drive in your condition.”

 

“Can too!” Lance countered, “I’m good now thanks to your excellent and unneeded medical expertise, thank you very much.” Okay, maybe he was lying, but there was no way he was letting Shiro drive him home. 

 

That would be a fucking nightmare.

 

“You both are wonderful doctors,” Lance complimented, “Really, I’m glad you were here and everything because I might have bled out through my nose otherwise.” He dabbed his red soaked Wendy’s napkin to his nose again for effect, “But as I have said, I don’t know, FIFTY- TWO MILLION TIMES, I’m completely okay.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes, “I’ll take him.” 

 

Shiro nodded to the other boy as if giving him permission. “Yeah, sure.”

 

“Are you both deaf?” Lance huffed. 

 

“Only to stupidity such as yours.” Keith replied, shoving Lance out of the driver's seat and into the passenger's side without much difficulty, “Buckle up, Callisto.” 

 

Lance pried at the door handle, but Keith had already locked it. “Dude, let me out! There is no way I’m letting you take me home!”

 

“Lance--”

 

“My car is going to get fucking stolen and you both are going to pay my insurance!”

 

Shiro snorted and looked at Keith through the rolled down window. His scar seemed more prominent in the dull light. “You are going to have fun,” He commented.

 

“I’ll just knock him out,” Keith responded.

  
Lance assumed that is exactly what happened that night. He didn’t remember anything else. And it was easier to believe that Keith, with his horrible hairdo and equally unfriendly attitude, had punched his lights out at some point on the ride to his house rather than Lance had fallen asleep in his obsolete, red jeep that smelled surprisingly….good, like cinnamon and apples and something else that Lance couldn’t quite place.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somethings not quite right at Lance's house....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehehe, I totally forgot I was writing this, whoops! My apologies!

On the day that everything went wrong, Lance’s first thought was he was going to murder some kids. 

  


“Lance! Lance! Lance!” Their voices chimed in so loud that Lance jolted from his dream. He vaguely remembered something about red apples. How strange was that? Something slammed on top of him, and Lance let out a yell. 

  


“Lance!” The big wide eyes of his youngest sister, Maria towered over him. Her wide smile was missing her front two teeth, but that didn’t stop her from jump up and down on his stomach. “I can’t believe you’re back! Mommy said you’d be gone for a long time!”

  


“Lance! Mommy is making Pancakes for us!” His youngest brother, Tyler, tugged on his arm. 

  


“Guys...” Lance groaned, as his entire body ached in protest of him moving. Damn that son a bitch last night. At least his nose wasn’t bleeding horribly still. Maria bounced on him again, oblivious to the fact that she was driving the much needed air from his lungs.

  


“After breakfast can you teach me to skateboard?” Tyler begged, shoving his face into Lance’s, “Please? Please? Pretty please?” 

  


“Can you play my new princess game with me, Lance?” Maria butted in, “Ashley won’t play with me!” 

  


Lance felt a sharp pain in his chest that had nothing to do with the big fat bruise over his ribcage. “Sure, guys, just...give me a chance to get up, okay?” 

  


They both seemed to pout for a second but then brightened up drastically. Lance couldn’t help but notice how much they had both changed since he’d been home last. Maria’s hair was longer and Tyler had to have grown a couple inches. He pulled his little sister off of him and forced his cramped body sit up. 

  


He was in the living room, on one of the couches. The room was a mess of discarded toys and books and newspapers, not surprisingly. The coffee table was buried in the wonderful, familiar chaos. In the front windows a red and blue woven dreamcatcher hung and stared out on to the world where the early morning rays were starting to warm the sidewalks. The TV was displaying the news, but Lance wasn’t really paying attention. His ribs were sore, and he felt like he’d only slept for a couple of seconds. 

  


He was still in his clothes from yesterday, his jacket still stained from the nacho cheese fiasco. He was surprised he was even allowed inside. The look on Keith’s face must have been pretty decent, if it convinced his mother to open the door well past midnight.

  


“Lance.” 

  


He looked up at the sound of his name suddenly being spoken. Maria and Tyler quieted down their conversation, though to be honest Lance hadn’t realized they had been talking to him. The air seemed to tense with just the entrances of the other two family members, Lance’s fourteen year old sister and her twin brother. 

  


“Ashley.” Lance acknowledged, “Cameron.” 

  


They both looked shocked that he was there. Lance didn’t blame them. They were old enough to have figured exactly what had happened those couple years ago. 

  


“How’s it going?” Lance forced a smile on to his face. It felt weird in his mouth as the words came out forced and robotically, “Did you guys miss my great and smiling face?”

  


“Lance…” Ashley repeated. She swooped down on him as if he was going to disappear any second. 

  


Cameron stood in the doorway like he’d been turned stone. He radiated a wide range of emotions, and they were complete opposites of his sister’s.

  


“Hey now,” Lance grinned, “you know I’m fatally allergic to physical contact with family members for long periods of time!” He patted Ashley’s head and gently pulled out of the hug. “Where’s Dad?”

  


“Out.” Cameron said, without making eye contact.

  


“Mom…” Ashley said quietly. She glanced at the other two kids who were greatly oblivious to the sudden turn of the air. The cheerfulness that they gave off felt a good distance away. Ashley sucked in a breath, “Mom wants you to help her make breakfast.” 

  


Cameron’s expression didn’t make Lance feel any better as he slowly got up. The twins shared a look and stood to the side so Lance could pass through the doorway to his demise. 

  


His only comforting thought was that he will probably be the best looking guy in Hell when he died. 

  


His mother made pancakes the same way she carried out death sentences. The kitchen was her dungeon and most food items that went in there didn’t come out the same, if at all. She cut fruit viciously, Fried bacon while snarling, and whipped pancake batter like the world depended on it.

  


Today wasn’t any different, unless you counted the fact she seemed to do it all robotically. Lance slid into her work space unnoticed as he watched the comforting sight of his mother cooking. She made the best foods he had ever tasted. 

  


“Quite a friend you’ve got, Lance.” She said without turn to look at him. Her apron was matted with flour as she scrambled eggs in a skillet.

  


“He’s not my friend.” Lance said, grabbing a spatula to flip pancakes.

  


“Oh?”

  


Lance glared at the golden brown fluffy cake as it cooked its last bit. “He’s a co worker, mom. My rival.”

  


She made a sound that Lance could only assume meant she was unimpressed. The kitchen was silent as he slid the new pancakes into their respective stacks on the platter. His mother had moved on to wash strawberries. 

  


“He didn’t seem like a rival last night.” 

  


“Well, he is.” Lance was surprised at his own cold tone when he said it. It was like the words weren’t even his. He swallowed hard, and relaxed his shoulders as if to remind himself that he was the happy, funny guy. “I mean, he’s my competitor and all but he’s got nothing on my wicked tip earning skills. At this rate I’ll be able to just buy the movie theater myself!”

  


It worked, and his mother cracked a slim smile, “So you got the theater job?”

  


“Yeah. And get this, I work directly under Takashi Shirogane! How cool is that?” Lance directed the conversation away from last night with his light and fun tone. He concentrated so hard on not thinking about Keith driving him home in his out-of-date red jeep, that he let a couple Pancakes burn. They tasted fine still, but it gave Lance a reason to not make eye contact with his mother.

  


He knew if he did, he was not going to like what he saw in them. He knew if he looked in his mother’s eyes he would see that last night was still on her mind, too, even if she replied like it wasn’t.

  


“So how long will you be staying?” His mother asked, pretentiously washing her hands in the sink.

  


Lance took a bite of a steaming hot pancake. “What getting tired of me already?” He joked, “I promised Maria and Ty I would hang with them just for a little bit. I figured I could catch the night bus to the mall and pick up my car. I’m planning on leaving tonight.” 

  


“Wonderful.” 

  


If Lance closed his eyes, he could almost pretend like the past couple of years never happened and that his mask of a smile was real.

  


***

  


“Lance! LANCE! The phone’s for you!”

  


Lance sighed in quiet relief as he took off the princess crown Maria had put on him and promised her he’d be right back. She made a whine of protest but Lance was already picking up the wireless house phone in the room and clicking the call button. 

  


“Sup?” He asked.

  


“There you are! I’ve been calling all over for you. Dude, do you even check your phone?” Hunk’s voice came out loud and excited as it always did right before he did something out of his comfort zone.

  


“I would but Blue is currently MIA.” Lance cringed slightly at the thought. He gave Hunk a brief, quiet run down of what had happened last night, including how he dropped his phone and didn’t have a car. He kept most of the details to a minimum as he watched Maria stare at him with her big blue eyes in solid interest. The last thing he needed was sweet little Maria innocently announcing how well Lance had gotten beat up.

  


“Wait, wait, wait,” Hunk said after Lance finished, “You named your phone Blue? Like the dog from Blue’s clues? Does that mean I should name mine Yellow?”

  


“No! It’s not like the dog-- Whatever, whatever.” Lance huffed, “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your date?”

  


Glancing out the window of the living room, Lance noted the sun was starting to sink. Hunk was the type of guy who’d be on time no matter what. The day itself had been full of teaching Tyler how to ride a skateboard, catching up with Cameron and Ashley, playing a princess board game with Maria, and trying to pretend like he didn’t feel his mother watching him interact with a look of some emotion that Lance wasn’t quite sure of yet. 

  


Hunk seemed to brighten again. Lance could hear him smiling through the phone as he thought of his girlfriend.

  


“I was checking to see if you’re tagging along. Shay wants to know if she should bring Rax to keep you company.”

  


“Rax? That guy is a total deadbeat. He makes having fun feel like a crime.”

  


“Well, last time we all hung out together you did try to steal a smoothie machine.” 

  


“Exactly!” Lance exclaimed, “No fun whatsoever with him around!”

  


“Anyway, I’m bringing her to the arcade in the mall. She told me the other day that she use to have the high score on Frogger not too long ago and I need to see that to believe it!” Hunk let out a laugh, “No, seriously, if you want we can we drop you and you can find your phone and then come play games with us. It’s cool.”

  


Lance grinned a bit, “I’m so embarrassing you, man.”

  


“Most of the time your attempts to make a fool of me backfire, Callisto.” Hunk said, “Now hurry up, I don’t wanna pick up Shay late.”

  


A car horn went off from the front driveway. Lance couldn’t help but snort a little as he hung up. Of course Hunk would already be here. The guy was so in love with Shay he wouldn’t dare be even a second late. 

  


“Hey, Sorry Maria,” Lance told his wide eyed little sister, “I’ve got to go.” 

  


She pouted but smiled again, “Don’t worry we can finish when you come back!” 

  


Lance paused walking out of the room. His jacket slung over his shoulder, and he knew if he looked back he might lose it.

  


“Yeah, sure, Maria.” He said void of emotion and then he hurried out of her room to the hall and the living room, where he pasted his mother and Cameron watching a rerun of Jeopardy. 

  


“Hunk is giving me a lift,” He called over his shoulder, “Tell Ash, I said bye!” Lance gave them a side wave without looking at either of them and he pulled the door closed. He knew his mother wouldn’t need anymore information, and quite frankly if Cameron care he’d have to ask. 

  


“Hunk my main man!” Lance grinned giving him a fistbump as he opened the passenger side door. 

  


The bigger boy shook his head fervently, “No way man, get in the back! That seat is for Shay!” 

  


“This girl is really starting to come between us Hunk.” Lance complained but complied anyway. The back seat was bigger anyway. He could stretch out and get a couple more minutes of sleep during the drive. 

  


Hunk pulled out of Lance’s driveway and neither of them looked back. Afterall, it was only the mall they were driving to. It was hardly a dangerous place.

  


Four hours later, as Lance hunkered under the movie theater counter his hands sticky with this scarlet color and his side burning with such pain he it was all he could do not to make a sound, he was regretting not saying a longer goodbye to his family. 


End file.
